Lost Causeway
Gary Glauber


You taught me to play that scherzo just so,
you trained me to surf the wind and the moonlight
onto the distant shores of some expectant tomorrow.
Now you cut me loose without a hint of hindsight.

It’s a factory job, what did I really expect
A name on a plastic card telling me who I am,
A cardboard heart to recycle, then reject,
Remanufacture into something worth a damn.

Tonight the pretty dancer looks pretty bored.
A hangdog look at the paltry crowd assembled
Then going through the motions, half ignored
except by the few who coughed and trembled.

Embrace these sad times, the pierced man states,
tapping his sharpened stick upon the barroom floor.
We down ten quavering toasts to the fickle fates,
Curse the darkness, and the challenge to drink more.

Traipsing off in a confused waltz, you scoff and smolder,
Wishing this sideshow carnage had never occurred,
Another scherzo played, this one faster and bolder,
accompanying another solitary dream deferred.



Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, teacher, and music journalist. His works have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and one was named “A Notable Online Story” by StorySouth’s Million Writers Award panel. Recent poems are published or forthcoming in The Compass Rose, The Fine Line and Front Porch Review